Murphy's Law.

March 11, Sierra Vista, Arizona.
I blew up a tire on I-10 coming from Willcox to Sierra Vista, and troubles began.
Because I made the mistake of not stopping immediately, trying to reach Fridman instead and waiting for the exit to go down to Sierra Vista a few miles down the highway, the blown-up tire did damage to the structure of the trailer too. Fridman decided to put the spare on instead of having me call the road emergency service we contracted and wait alone for them to arrive. Saul and el tio Tito, who were behind us, stopped to help. That's the good thing about traveling with the circus, there will always be someone who stops to help you when you're having trouble on the road. It makes you feel safe. Saul was traveling with the new clown the circus brought over from Mexico, a midget called Marvin. He made hand signals to help me maneuver the trailer according to Fridman's orders, and if you knew I've been partially deaf since my 20s this made for a interesting little scene over there on the side of highway 90: two big rigs, two small rigs and a midget making sign language for a deaf driver in between.
Then I got lost arriving into Sierra Vista, and got el tio Tito lost as well for he was following me. He finally flagged down a police car, and the policeman escorted us back to the lot. A tall, lanky black guy in his forties, he was extremely soft-spoken and helpful, and apparently as confused as we were about the directions we had. I would have liked to get his name: it is not often I get to see the police in this country in such a good light (racial profiling is usually more like them, as when we were stopped in Louisiana on I-10 for no other reason that Fridman seemed "suspicious" pulling such an expensive trailer as the Avion.) I only got to wave him goodbye; this is my thank you to our rescuer and the redeemer of its corps.
on with the troubles: we have no electricity here because the circus is set up in such a way that the generator is on the other side of a four-lane street, lighting up the tent and circus trucks. Housing trailers have to rely on their own small generators, and ours doesn't work because of the weak battery. Of course in a town without power it has to be cold, and so it is. No heat and no lights make for a pretty miserable set up. Genia connected us to his generator last night, so at least the gas heater could come on for the night.
We had to spent all day changing tires on the trailer, and on the truck too, driving around town pulling our 36-footer. We bought a new battery while we were at it, went to lunch in a hurry and got a bad curry, and then it was time for the show.
I had made an appointment for Dylan but canceled it; he doesn't sound so bad anymore and I figured we could wait for next Tuesday when he turns four months old and we have to go to a clinic for his shots again. Fridman has to see a doctor too. Something got into his eye, and with the eyes you don't mess around. There was no time yesterday, and again this morning the wait was going to be too long before he had to be at work for the three shows. This is the flip side of life at most small circuses: seven days a week and no time off unless it's an emergency. Fridman had metal wedged in his eye once when the circus was near San Diego and I drove down from Riverside late at night after work to take him to the hospital. It turned out it could have permanently damaged his eye.
The good thing is that he's strong as a horse, never gets sick, works like a powerhouse all day and gets up the next fresh as a newborn. Speaking of, Dylan was lucky: he doesn't look anything like me. That's because he got most of his genes from his Dad, so not only is he dark skinned, which I love, and the most beautiful baby on earth (of course,) but hopefully he'll enjoy Fridman's incredible good health too.